Strange Magic
by Gozer
Summary: ARCHIVED Having his powers dwindled to almost nothing, Mozenrath comes into contact with a certain genie from the past. Mozenrath x Jafar
1. The Black Lamp

Draped in eternal night lay the infamous city of the dead.

The dry, earthly sound of the black sand being gently blown across the landscape was interrupted momentarily by the front door of the Citadel bursting open, revealing a man draped in brown peasantry robes with most of his face hidden away by a hood and a khaki scarf over his mouth. It was what he normally wore nowdays whenever he had to occasionally leave the dark land.

"Xerxes coming too!" Came the scratchy voice of the flying eel, twirling himself playfully around his master's head. Mozenrath grumbled, grabbing the creature's tail and giving it a hard yank away from him. "Xerxes NOT coming too."

The eel caught himself in midair, shooting the sorcerer a look of annoyance. "Why not?!"

"Because" Mozenrath began in an impatient tone, "Because maybe a common peasant doesn't keep close company with flying serpentine creatures. Ever notice that?"

Xerxes' eyes rolled back in thought, wearing a rather funny expression of confusion. Mozenrath gave an annoyed sigh and walked off, leaving the eel to its thoughts. He didn't want to be bothered with stupid questions right now.

For the past two years, the sorcerer had been digging around the desert cities for another outlet to magical powers. When he had promptly refused to leave earth after his powers had exceeded their limits on his body, his magic began to drastically dwindle until it was almost completely gone. There was nothing powerful about his gauntlet anymore. There were only the broken pieces of magic that had failed to leave his body with the more powerful spells he could previously conjure. He could still teleport and make things float in the air, but doing either proved to be a bit painful.

So once again, he was off to find curios, magic charms, or whatever kind of gadgets or potions that could feed power back into his body again without having it eaten away like his right arm.

With a cool swish, he vanished.

* * *

He reappeared in an alleyway of a city he now didn't want much to do with, groaning at the burning feeling in his forehead, a regular side-effect of his use of power now. It only lasted about 15 seconds before he felt the pain drift slowly away. He gave an impatient sigh, quite sick of that always happening. 

For certain reasons from past events, he didn't like visiting the tan city of Agrabah. Certain reasons mostly involving a young man by the name of "Aladdin." However, it was the closest city to his, which meant less energy spent traveling. If he teleported to a city much farther, he probably would've become violently ill instead of receiving a minor headache. He knew this little fact well, because he had been visiting those cities.

Aladdin had become Sultan. He and the new Sultana, Jasmine, would be soon expecting a newborn heir. The tan city had flourished under Aladdin's rule and had seemed much cleaner than before. Still, the downtown area remained a hotspot for thieves and scammers.

The young man huffed, walking down the dusty, crowded street, people pushing impatiently past him as they did whatever it was that happened in this godforsaken city. He gritted his teeth, trying to hold back his anger until he was at least somewhere where he wouldn't get caught. Just then, he stopped in front of a shop marked "Curio." He raised an unphased eyebrow. Probably none of the stuff in there was really magic but hey, it wouldn't hurt to look.

The shop wasn't very fancy. It seemed to only be lined with wooden shelves filled with little trinkets and charms. There were even a few statues of saintly figures. Nice idea for a toy store. Pathetic excuse for magic. Mozenrath made a low groan in disgust. He walked up to the short turban-wearing cashier, giving a slight cough to get his attention.

"Can I help you?" Came the cheerful reply of the shopkeeper, whirling around to greet the new customer.

Mozenrath gave a slight nod. "Don't you have anything else besides…" His eyes darted to a basket full of shrunken skulls, "eh… this stuff?"

"Are you sure none of this fits your liking."

The wizard sighed. "Yes."

The shopkeeper thought for a moment, crossing his arms and looking casually over his shoulder. After about a minute, he turned back to the taller man. "Quite possibly. But unless you can persuade me to show you, I'm afraid I-"

Mozenrath took out a small sack and dangled it in front of the shopkeeper. "20 gold pieces."

The old man's eyebrows shot up. "I believe I have just the thing." The little man disappeared into the back of the shop, returning two minutes later, holding a small, black oil lamp.

"Now before you say anything" The shopkeeper said, seeing the unimpressed look in his customer's eyes, "This is no ordinary lamp." He held it up to Mozenrath. "You see, after a rather, eh, paranormal event a few years ago, I found this half-buried in the ground right outside the palace. Now I can't be sure, but I believe it holds a sort of dangerous power. It twitched and jumped in my hands when I picked it up. I didn't know what to do with it, so I brought it back here." He bit his lower lip. "Haven't touched it again 'til now."

Mozenrath took it carefully out of the man's hands. His eyes widened. It certainly held _something_. He could feel vibrations of whatever it was contained in there peck gently at his fingertips. A small smile formed under the cowl. Dangerous power, eh? Perfect.

He walked gallantly out of the shop, throwing the sack of gold in the man's face as he did so. The shopkeeper scrambled to get a hold of it, dropping it, spilling the gold and picking up the pieces hastily in a clumsy fashion.

Mozenrath crept carefully to a dark corner of the street, ducking out of sight. He held the lamp close, his sixth sense picking up on the magical vibes it gave off. He smirked. "This should be interesting." And vanished once again.

* * *

Having dressed back into his normal attire, Mozenrath sat cross-legged at a table where he was watching the lamp with burning curiosity. Xerxes sniffed at it, wondering why his master had gone all the way to another city to buy a mere oil lamp. 

"So…" Mozenrath mused to the black lamp, "What kind of magic lies inside, hmm?" He shook the lamp a little but heard no sound of physical contents slipping around inside. He tried to pry the lid off the top of it but found it was stuck tight. His brows furrowed in puzzlement. "Well…" He stroked his fingers across it curiously. "Perhaps I should've asked a little more before I-"

Suddenly, without warning, the lamp began to shake violently. Mozenrath's eyes went wide with surprise. "…what the?!"

He got up and backed away slowly, the lamp on the table shaking more and more violently. Xerxes hid behind his master, slipping himself under the cape.

"Mozenrath, what happening?!"

Mozenrath's upper lip twitched. "I… I don't…"

Then a large cloud of smoke shot out of the lamp's nozzle in a quick blast, covering the entire room in red. Mozenrath lost his balance and fell, which got his eel friend only more agitated. He shielded the two of them with his cape, not knowing what on earth to expect.

After about a minute, the smoke finally began to clear. Mozenrath removed the cape cautiously, only to find his eyes traveling up into those of a taller figure, holding a staff shaped like a snake. The remaining smoke still swirled around the mysterious person a little, making the details of it unclear.

"Who…" Mozenrath gritted his teeth, "Who ARE YOU?!!"

"Yeah! Who you be?!" Xerxes chimed in, making an angry face.

The figure above them raised an eyebrow. "You don't know?"

"ADDRESS YOURSELF!!" Mozenrath shouted.

The figure smirked. "I'm the genie of the lamp." He crouched down, looking directly at Mozenrath with a pair of hypnotic-looking eyes. "But you may call me Jafar."


	2. Sorcerer meets Sorcerer

Jafar.

Where had he heard that name before?

"_You ever hear of Jafar? You know, a tall guy, kinda snakey?"_

"You're a… genie?"

Jafar smirked. "That's correct."

Mozenrath stood up slowly, not taking his eyes off the stranger. Nothing annoyed him more than unexpected guests, but this was a genie, a real genie who could grant him any three wishes he wanted.

Um… wow?

This genie didn't look at all like the idiotic blue djinn who had accompanied Aladdin so many times before. This one was so different. He looked human. A man probably somewhere in his 40s or 50s. He was tall, and dressed like royalty, gripping a gold staff with the head of a cobra in his right hand. Very neat, a clean-cut beard dressing his face, and the most mysterious-looking set of eyes fanned with long eyelashes.

Mozenrath blinked, then straightened himself back into his usual proud stance whenever greeting some outlander. "My name is Mozenrath, high ruler to this dark kingdom." He looked up at Jafar mockingly, crossing his arms and giving a slight accent of a cruel smirk. "But I suppose that under these circumstances, you may call me Master."

"Mozenrath your master!" Xerxes reiterated, appearing at the sorcerer's shoulder.

Jafar raised an eyebrow. "Beg pardon?"

Mozenrath's eyes narrowed. "Master." His lips pursed. "I expect you to address me as that from now o-"

"I don't think so."

The young wizard's cold eyes suddenly widened at this. "What?!" His jaw clenched. "But the one who holds the lamp is the master of it!" He glared up at the taller man, his fists clenching at his sides. "And you, my friend, are forced to obey by my rules."

Jafar glared back. "Really? Well, I happen to have my own set of rules." A scroll magically appeared in his long fingers, promptly dropping it into Mozenrath's hands. "Rule one." He began as Mozenrath hastily opened the scroll, "I am bound to grant you only three wishes. After that, I go back into the lamp. And no, you cannot wish for more wishes. If you wish for me to call you master, I shall. But that would be quite a waste of a precious wish now wouldn't it?" Mockingly, Jafar buffed his nails on his cloak and smirked down at the incredibly irritated expression on Mozenrath's face. "Rule two," He continued, "Even if you wish for it, I can't kill anybody. Rules three and four are similar whereas I cannot make people fall in love or bring anyone back from the dead." He grinned. "Any questions?"

Mozenrath looked like a spoiled kid who didn't get what he wanted for Christmas. "No."

"Very well." Jafar said, making the scroll in Mozenrath's hands disappear.

"…But know this, Jafar!" The younger man retaliated, "If you had come to me two years earlier, I would've had you begging for my mercy!"

The old genie rolled his eyes uncaringly. "Really now?"

"Yes." Mozenrath hissed. He averted his glare from the genie to the floor, biting his lower lip in frustration. "I'll have you know that I was once the most powerful sorcerer in the land."

"Most powerful!" Xerxes growled.

Now where had Jafar heard THAT little statement before? He let out a low sigh of discord at the thought.

The young wizard's attention suddenly snapped back up to Jafar, bearing a rather curious expression. "What?"

Jafar doubled-took, a bit surprised at the boy's sudden change in mood. "Eh?"

"Why did you just do that?"

"Do what?"

"You sighed." Mozenrath raised an eyebrow. "Are you okay?"

Jafar suddenly became a bit defensive. "Fine. I just got bored with your little teenage angst show just then."

Mozenrath's cheeks reddened. He hated it more than anything when people talked down to him. "I'm twenty years old, I'm not a teenager!"

"Just an eyelash away from being one though." Jafar grinned. He was beginning to have fun with this.

"At least I'm not exactly in the prime of middle age!" Mozenrath shot back, crossing his arms in a challenging fashion.

Jafar smirked. "At least I can do…" He snapped his fingers, making sparks fly out as he did so, "Magic!"

Mozenrath frowned. "Go to hell."

Jafar sauntered over to the table, leaning against it with one hand. "Well, if you really want magic." He looked over his shoulder at the boy, grinning in amusement, "You could always WISH for it."

Mozenrath paused, a stange look of helplessness suddenly crossing over his face, leaving behind the fury that had been there a moment ago. Jafar's grin faded. This really wasn't the reaction he had expected.

"…I" Mozenrath faltered, "I can't."

Jafar turned back to him, walking slowly towards the boy with a puzzled expression. "And… um… why??"

"Distain-" Xerxes began, immediately silenced by his master gripping him by the throat.

Mozenrath gave a low hiss at the eel. "Shut up."

Jafar blinked. "Distain?"

"Nothing." Mozenrath mumbled.

Jafar looked at the boy curiously. What about Distain? Did he mean the old sorcerer? Surely if _any_one had messed with that guy, they would've paid for it somehow. His attention shifted to the landscape outside a nearby window, recognizing it with sudden recollection. "It would explain the surroundings." He glanced back at the sorcerer. "The land of the black sand didn't suit his best interest?"

Mozenrath looked up. "You knew him?"

"Briefly." Jafar said bitterly. "He was a very unpleasant person to be around. But I suppose you would know that."

"...Suppose I would." Mozenrath huffed, getting a bit tired of this trivial chit-chat. He straightened himself back into his usual ruthless attitude and narrowed his eyes at the older man. "Well!" He said, "I guess there's really no point in keeping you out when I haven't thought up any wishes yet." He picked up the black lamp, pointing it in Jafar's direction. "So get back in the lamp, genie."

Jafar shot him a look of sheer irritation and disappeared inside the lamp with a red puff of smoke. Mozenrath let off a short gasp as it happened, feeling the familiar sensation of magic vibrate off the lamp once Jafar was back inside of it. Raising an eyebrow, he placed the lamp back on the table. This genie wasn't like the ones that hung around Aladdin. Nope, not at all.

The young sorcerer shrugged his shoulders. He'd deal with it later.


	3. Mozenrath's Curse

A day passed by. The black lamp was still in the same spot on the table where Mozenrath had left it. Once again, the young sorcerer found himself seated at the very table, wondering what to do with it.

He could wish for all seven kingdoms of the desert to be his, he could wish for more gold, heck, he could even with that all his enemies be turned into old camels with hepatitis. (lol)

Years ago, he would've jumped at any of those chances, but now… he just didn't care anymore.

Years of being alone and deprived of power had made him grow increasingly apathetic of what would happen to him now. At least back when he was getting into fights with Aladdin, he at least had something to do. But after two years of nothing…

Well, the only thing he really focused on nowdays was getting his magic back. He could get it in small temporary pieces, but thanks to something his former master had done, he would probably never get it back.

Not when the magic ate away at him like a parasite.

But magic itself had become almost an addiction to him. When he could just feel magic naturally, like from the touch of a working charm or a potion or a…

…magic lamp.

He touched the lamp gently, being careful not to rub it. He smiled at the cool familiar feeling that the object's magic sent through his fingers. He missed that. He really did. It made him feel more alive, especially through his skeletal right hand.

"Mozenrath sad?" The hovering eel asked, having been observing his master for the past hour.

Mozenrath shrugged, taking his fingers off the lamp. "I don't know." He looked down at the table. "Bored, maybe."

Xerxes hovered closer. "How about Mozenrath talk to Genie if bored."

"I don't have any wishes right now, Xerxes."

The eel glanced at the lamp. "Just talk to Genie normal then."

"What's wrong with talking to you?"

The eel did a lazy turn in the air. "Because Xerxes tired."

Mozenrath smirked. "Fine, you can go take a nap then." With a confirming nod, the little creature flew off. The boy turned his attention back to the lamp, pondering that thought. After all, it did get pretty boring, living in such a large place with nobody but your pet and a few undead soldiers to keep you company.

"Talk to Genie normal." He mused. Talk about what exactly? Hmm…

Perhaps he could start off by asking the djinn some questions. He did have quite a few. For example, why did the genie look so human? And how did it know Distain?

Slowly, he reached out with his gloved hand and gave the lamp three quick strokes. As before, the red smoke began to pour out of the nozzle, but it wasn't as much of a show as it was before. Within seconds, Jafar's tall figure once again stood over Mozenrath, who decided to greet him standing up rather than sitting in that chair.

Jafar looked down at his young master. "Do you have a wish?"

"Um." It took the boy a few seconds to respond, the genie's mesmerizing eyes making him feel rather vulnerable. "I'm afraid I haven't thought of any yet."

The eyes narrowed. "So why did you summon me?"

"I wanted to ask you some questions." Mozenrath folded his arms. He decided to cut the small talk and get down to what he wanted to know. "You look fairly different compared to other genies I've seen. Why?"

Jafar raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by 'different?"

"I've seen other genies before, but they didn't look as… well, human as you."

Jafar let out an annoyed sound. "Well, I do have a 'traditional' genie form." In a burst of smoke, he transformed into a traditional-looking djinn, donned with scarlet red skin, more muscles, and a pair of gold cuffs locked tightly onto his wrists. His seductive, hypnotic eyes were replaced by glowing yellow orbs, which made Mozenrath feel a bit nervous when stared upon by them.

"Satisfied?" Genie-Jafar asked. Then suddenly, a puzzled look crossed his face. "Wait a minute…" In another flash of red smoke, he turned back into his former appearance. "What 'other' genies have you seen?" He took a few steps closer to Mozenrath. "They aren't exactly easy to come by."

The boy took a step back, the nervousness beginning to build. "There was… there was a green girl one named Eden and a blue one… I don't think he had a name…"

"A blue one." Jafar repeated to himself. He looked at Mozenrath curiously. "You wouldn't by any chance know a certain street rat named 'Aladdin' would you?"

"Aladdin?!" Mozenrath yelped in surprise, "He used to be my arch-enem… WAIT, HOW DO YOU KNOW ALADDIN?!" The young sorcerer was so shocked and confused at the mention of his rival's name from a total stranger.

Jafar rolled his eyes. "It's a bit of a long story."

"Now I remember!" Mozenrath exclaimed, "Aladdin had a parrot too! He mentioned you to me once or twice." He stopped. "Who ARE you, Jafar? Tell me! I don't understand."

Jafar gave out another sigh. "Fine…if you must know." With the snap of his fingers, he made two chairs from the table appear at their sides. They both took a seat, Mozenrath quite eager to hear the genie's story.

"A few years ago," He began, "I was the royal vizier to the sultan of Agrabah..."

* * *

Xerxes was secretly watching the two converse from a crack in one of the citadel's old gray walls.

The creature smiled. He had been getting quite tired of seeing his master do nothing but mope around and hunt for useless trinkets like a common peddler for the past two years. Not only was it getting old but it was also making the eel increasingly depressed. He remembered how much fun they used to have with the wicked plans they would put into action; summoning demons from another dimension, messing around with Aladdin whenever possible- it used to be another new adventure every week. Mozenrath had been so mischievous and full of action back then. Not like the sad, apathetic ex-wizard he had become. It just wasn't him. Xerxes wanted so much for the old Mozenrath to come back.

* * *

And this genie just might be the key to that.

Mozenrath's eyes were wide, hearing such an incredible story. So Jafar had wished to become a genie- he wasn't bourn one. That one wish had been the cause of his seemingly eternal imprisonment.

And apparently death as well, as Jafar had just finished telling him about his lamp being knocked into a pit of lava.

He leaned closer with burning interest. "So how did you come back?"

Jafar gave off a sort of half-smile. "You can't kill a genie. Genies are made out of pure magic. Magic cannot be destroyed. After some time, my lamp simply regenerated itself." He waved one hand in the air to illustrate the effect.

But something still wasn't right with this. "Why didn't you get back at Aladdin again?"

Mozenrath immediately regretted saying that at the instant effect it had in the genie's eyes. Jafar's grip on his gold cane suddenly tightened and his voice swelled with bitterness. A sort of calm bitterness.

"Another man found me and used his three wishes to make himself and his two friends rich. He lent my lamp to some of his other friends who took turns wishing for a bunch of mundane things, not really caring about the things I said, giving it back to the man when they were done with it." He rolled his eyes. "I just sort of lost interest after a while. I'm just a genie anyway; I already got my three wishes." He let out an impatient sigh, recalling those lousy memories.

The two were very quiet for several minutes reminiscing in their own regrets. It was Mozenrath who finally broke the silence. "I was a sorcerer too."

Jafar looked up. "Really?"

Mozenrath nodded. "I used to be Disdain's apprentice."

"Disdain." Jafar pondered that image for a moment smirked. "You poor boy."

Mozerath gave a light chuckle. "He took me in when I was five years old. He taught me things in exchange that I did all the chores in the citadel for him, never mind the use of mamluks." He frowned. "He really enjoyed seeing people in pain." He stretched out his right hand, clad in an old gauntlet. "He gave this to me when I was ten. It allowed me to do almost anything- summon monsters, fly… whatever I wanted."

Jafar eyed him curiously. "But…?"

The boy sighed. "But he put this weird curse on me so that the magic would eat away at my body the more I used it. Eventually I gave up that magic just so I could live." He wriggled his fingers in the gauntlet. "I've been without power for two years now."

So THAT's why the boy had declined the 'get my powers back' wish Jafar had suggested before.

"How… how exactly did it eat away at you?"

Mozerath bit his lip nervously, gripping the edge of the gauntlet. Slowly he pulled it off, looking for the reaction in Jafar's face.

Jafar's eyes did widen a little at the sight. Most of the boy's right arm was nothing but pure white bone. No skin or muscles. SOME magic must have still lurked there for survival purposes, seeing as he could still move it. But now it was clear as to just how much pain the boy had gone through for power.

Mozenrath sighed. "It doesn't hurt as much as it used to. I've gotten used to it."

Jafar frowned. "For Allah's sake boy…" he took hold of the bony hand, the boy letting out a short gasp at the touch, "If this curse did this to you, why don't you just wish it away?" He said this in a sort of 'duh' manner.

The boy tried not to show reaction to the cool sense of magic Jafar's hand was giving him. "D…Disdain said that is was permanent." His eyes narrowed at the genie in frustration. "I've tried everything, EVERYTHING to make this wretched curse go away!"

Jafar leered down at him. "Even the magic of a real djinn?"

"I…" Mozenrath looked down. "I'm just afraid that it won't work.

The genie rolled his eyes again. "And if it doesn't work," he snapped his fingers, making the number '2' appear in the air for only a few seconds. "You still have two wishes to do whatever else you may have in mind."

Mozenrath looked slowly back up at Jafar. "Um…" He sighed, trying to give off a hinted smile. "Okay, I'll try."

Jafar took one step back, preparing for the first wish.

He took a deep breath

"Genie, I wish this curse on me gone forever!"


	4. Fire and Water

The eyes on Jafar's snake staff suddenly glowed a bright red and gave off a quick flash. Mozenrath let out a startled gasp as he felt a sort of shock run through him. His knees buckled as he felt something inside him being burned away- like the most intense case of heartburn in history.

Jafar's expression turned serious at the look of pain on the boy's face.

"Mozenrath…?"

Mozenrath gave off a short whine in response, clutching his stomach and getting down on his knees.

Jafar knelt down, his eyes full of concern, taking the boy by the shoulders.

"What's wrong? Come on boy, speak!"

The coolness that Jafar's touch gave him was like a blessing, now feeling that there was an entire forest fire going on inside of him. Desperately, he hugged Jafar's body closer to his, trying in vain to make the pain go away.

Jafar's eyes went wide. This was certainly unexpected. What exactly had he done to him? Mozerath's arms were wrapped tightly around the genie's waist, his face buried into his chest. The boy felt very warm against him; burning up. A fever maybe. Maybe the spell had made him sick.

"Are you okay?" Jafar whispered.

Mozenrath's grip on him tightened. "Burning up… hurts…"

That was when Xerxes hovered into the room, caught a little off guard by the scene in front of him.

"Uh… Xerxes interrupting something?"

Jafar looked up at the eel impatiently. "Where do you keep the medicine in this place?!"

"Why? Mozenrath sick?"

"Yes, he's sick!" Jafar hissed, making the eel draw back a little. "I need you to bring me something that takes care of fevers."

Xerxes looked down at Mozenrath, a look of worry practically written across his poor little face. He hovered closer, sniffing his master to see if something had poisoned him.

Suddenly, the eel shot a strong glare at the genie.

"What did genie do to Mozenrath?!"

For that instant, it looked like Jafar was about to slap the little animal's mouth off. Then Mozenrath looked up lazily from Jafar's chest.

"Nothing Xerxes… nnngh… he didn't… just… get me something…"

Loyally obeying his master, he quickly flew off into another part of the citadel in a frantic search for medicine.

Jafar looked back down at the boy, a bit worried and rather annoyed by the sudden turn of events.

"What did you make me do?"

Mozenrath breathed hard against him. "I don't know… I don't know…" He snuggled closer to Jafar, wanting to be soothed by more of that magic touch. "Mmm…"

The minutes passed by. Jafar was beginning to contemplate shoving the boy off of him as the situation seemed to look more and more awkward. But the young sorcerer held a firm death grip on Jafar's cape, which seemed to tighten with every burst of burning pain inside of him, so there he remained.

After a while, Jafar looked down at the boy to see if he was alright. His face was still buried in the genie's chest and he hadn't spoken a word for at least fifteen minutes. (And where was that infernal eel?)

"Mozenrath?"

No response.

"Look at me, boy."

Still no response.

Jafar's brow furrowed. He pulled the boy's face away from him, only to find both eyes shut and his body limp. The pain had exhausted Mozenrath into unconciousness.

It was at that very moment where Xerxes finally came back.

"We're out of tums."

Jafar put a hand to his forehead, muttering a few swears to himself.

* * *

Darkness

Darkness everywhere.

The only thing existing in the void was the voice.

"_Did you really think you could get rid of it, Mozenrath?"_

"I just did, didn't I?"

"_You made me angry, that's what you did."_

"I got rid of you a long time ago. Leave me alone."

"_You're the one who woke me up."_

"You're not here. You're dead."

"_You know that's not true."_

"What are you going to do to me?"

"_You almost killed me. You put me into oblivion for five years. Don't think I'm going to just let that go."_

"I'm not afraid of you, Disdain."

"_You should be."_

* * *

Mozenrath's eyes opened slowly. He let out a low groan, feeling quite sore but at least the hellish burning feeling was gone.

He blinked a few times, bringing his eyes back into focus. He was in his room on his bed. His shoes, cape and hat had been removed. Jafar's black lamp sat on a nearby desk. Xerxes was curled up at the foot of the bed, lost in sleep.

Mozenrath sat up.

"Xerxes." He called to the creature.

"Hzzz…."

"XERXES."

Xerxes woke up with a start, then smiling with relief at seeing his master awake. "Mozenrath okay?"

Mozenrath nodded. "Yes, I'm okay." He looked around. "How did I get here?"

The eel hovered over to his master's side. "Genie got frustrated and brought you up to your room. I helped."

The boy looked over at the lamp. "He did?"

"Yeah. Genie said he was tired of sitting on the floor being hugged."

Mozenrath looked at the eel cockeyed. "What do you mean he was tired of-" Suddenly his eyes opened wide as the memory crawled its way to the surface. A bit of color came to his pale cheeks. "Oh…"

Xerxes nodded. "Mozenrath sick?"

"Er… no. Not anymore." Mozenrath massaged his temples wearily. He was still a bit dizzy from the episode.

Not to mention a strange dream which he couldn't remember a bit of.

The eel smiled. "Mozenrath likes Genie?"

A puzzled look suddenly crossed Mozenrath's features. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing."

The boy brushed his black curly locks out of his eyes. "You can leave now. I'm fine."

"Mozenrath don't need anything?"

Mozenrath shook his head. "No. Nothing."

The eel slithered over to a bedside table where a silver bottle was. "I found medicine in kitchen. Make you feel better."

Mozenrath sighed. "I don't want anything, Xerxes. I just need some alone time for a while."

"Mozenrath sure?"

He shot Xerxes an annoyed look. "Yes. I'm sure. Now LEAVE."

Xerxes nodded and flew away.

Mozenrath let himself fall lazily back against the sheets. Still sore. He let out another sigh, only this time it was a bit longer.

He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to recall the beautiful feeling he had received after being in such closeness with Jafar. The magic. It had seemed to be a lovely combination of both warm and cool. It really helped with taking a lot of the pain away.

Jafar. Mozenrath wondered why Jafar had stayed with him that whole time. The genie had come off as being a rather "look-out-for-number-one" type of character when they had first met in the previous day. But it seemed that he had taken a bit of a liking to the boy.

Perhaps it was the way the two of them had so much in common.

They had both been sorcerers at one point in time, went on a mad quest for power, got carried away and had gotten themselves into their own little curses. One had phenomenal power but was trapped forever as a slave inside a lamp. The other was completely free, but suffered greatly from the withdrawal of magic, of which had been previously eating away at him.

Mozenrath wondered if maybe he needed Jafar for more than a genie who granted wishes.


	5. Magically Delirious

It hurt to move. Mozenrath groaned. His body was completely worn out from the strange fever he had earlier. Every one of his joints felt like they had been nailed there.

Quite sore indeed.

His eyes ventured over to the small bottle on the nightstand that Xerxes had brought for him earlier. Medicine. He sighed. He really needed to stop getting so frustrated with that eel whenever he tried to help out.

Slowly, he reached over and took it, taking a small sip of the substance inside. He paused. It tasted quite peculiar, but not terrible. Eager to get rid of the pain, he gulped down the rest of the bottles' contents. Not exactly the wisest thing in the world to do, but he didn't care. The bottle was quite small and whatever was in there didn't taste very potent- quite stale. Maybe a bit minty.

He replaced the bottle to its spot and waited patiently for the medicine to take effect.

* * *

Jafar wandered aimlessly through the citadel, surveying the dark surroundings. There wasn't enough light to see much in the place, the land of the black sands having only ever seen the night sky. The torches on a few of the walls helped quite a bit though.

Most of the rooms were empty or no longer used. This was no surprise, seeing as Mozenrath and Xerxes had been the only residents here for the past five years, not counting the mamluks who usually lurked around outside. Nobody even lived in the city area below. This was a dead place, devoid of sunlight and human life.

Sad as it may have seemed, Jafar knew in his dark heart that he found it all so fascinating. What it must be like to have an entire city to yourself, the only residents being your zombie servants who would be quick to obey your every command no matter what. Yet, what good was it if you never got to meet any challenges with others? Whether it was in a gloomy place or a sunshine-filled paradise, you would still be bored to death if you were all by yourself.

He continued his stroll down the hallway until he felt his wrists suddenly freeze in the air, glowing gold bands suddenly appearing and constricting them. Jafar growled and took a step back, having the bands vanish. He hated it when that happened. A certain rule of being a genie was that you had to remain within 500 feet of your master at all times. No exceptions. Another reminder of his entrapment.

Trying not to think about that, he decided that he may as well go check on the boy anyway. He was probably awake by now. The eel had said that he had brought Mozenrath some medicine earlier- perhaps he was feeling better. Not that Jafar cared.

In a second, he reappeared outside the boy's door. He gave it quick three knocks.

"Mozenrath?"

No answer.

Jafar twisted one of his fingers in his beard. Perhaps Mozenrath was still passed out. He pulled the latch on the door and let himself in.

To his surprise, Mozenrath turned out to be awake. He was sitting on the bed with his head bowed, his long raven hair shielding his face.

Jafar frowned. "It's customary to respond when someone addresses you, boy."

Mozenrath turned his head slowly towards Jafar. Jafar was a bit taken off guard at the expression on Mozenrath's face- His eyes had a sort of weird look in them and his mouth was curled in a lazy smile.

"Oh, hey Jafar." He grinned. "When… when did you get in here?"

"Just… now."

"Sweeeeet." His gaze drifted off into space. "Hey, I've got a great idea. Let's go bake cookies. I'll get the spatula!"

He tried to get off the bed but ended up tripping and falling in the process. He lay on the floor giggling like a girl.

"Uh…" Jafar knelt down to the young man, having absolutely no idea as to what the hell was going on. "Are you okay?"

Mozenrath nodded gallantly. "Mmm-hmm!" He cocked his head to one side, grinning again. "You look kinda sexy from this angle."

That's when the genie caught a glimpse of the bottle on the bed table. He got up and picked it up, examining it closely. It was only when he looked at the bottom of the bottle that he read the small print engraved in it:

"_Cannabis sativa extract"_

Mother of Persia, this kid had just taken a pint of liquid dope.

"Come back." Mozenrath said in an off-key tone from the floor. "It's lonely out here in… room… place."

Jafar turned back to the young man, kneeling down again. His eyes narrowed. "Try reading the labels on things next time, you imbecile."

"Yeah," Mozenrath snickered. "I should probably do that." He forced himself to sit up, leaning himself against the bed in a clumsy fashion. "Yay, no pain."

Jafar sighed. He couldn't leave Mozenrath alone like this; god knew what the little stoner would try to do in this state. Mozenrath's attention veered off into the ceiling, perhaps trying to count the marble tiles. The genie sat close, facing him.

Mozenrath's attention then shifted from the ceiling to Jafar. A seductive sort of leer began to cross his face.

"What?" Jafar said, a little puzzled at the boy's expression.

Mozenrath smiled. "You have lovely eyes."

Jafar blinked. "Um, thank you."

The young sorcerer leaned back against the bed, sighing to himself. Jafar suddenly felt the urge to smile. Mozenrath just looked so… pretty. The way his hair hung down and shadowed his face, save for his eyes which seemed to have a semi-erotic aura to them. He suddenly realized how effeminate the boy looked. In a sense, it reminded him of Princess Jasmine; only much more… wicked.

Mozenrath grinned. "Bored?"

"A little." Jafar replied.

The leer on the boy's face grew stronger. "Your beard is so… twisted."

Princess Jasmine. RIGHT THERE.

"What?" Jafar's eyes went wide.

"It is." Mozenrath reached up with his skeleton arm and toyed with it in his fingers, making the genie seem to freeze. "Twisted."

His hand moved from Jafar's beard to Jafar's face, stroking his cheek gently. Jafar went slightly scarlet at this. He reached a hand up to pull Mozenrath's away but changed his mind and put it back down.

Then he felt both of the boy's hands clasp the back of his head.

Jafar's eyebrows raised. "What are you doing?"

Mozenrath's grin widened. "You have lovely eyes."

"You already said tha-"

And then Mozenrath's full lips pressed against his. Jafar expected his brain to explode right then. The young sorcerer pressed harder into the kiss letting out a small moan as he did so. If just touching the genie sent magic vibes rippling through his body then kissing him must have been indescribable. He hugged the older man closer to himself, wanting more of that magic.

Jafar finally awoke from his frozen state and pulled away. "Mozenrath." He said in a serious voice, "You're stoned. You don't know what you're doing."

The boy gave him a wicked look. "So what? Admit it, you like this."

"I don't. Get off."

Mozenrath leaned closer. "You do. You're a liar." And ran his skeleton hand along the genie's thigh.

Jafar's eyes shot fully open and he shoved the boy off. "NO." He reached one of his hands out and his snake staff magically appeared in it. He held the staff up to the boy so that the eyes of he and the serpent connected. The eyes filled with a glowing hypnotic red. Mozenrath could do nothing but stare at it. After only a few seconds, his eyes shut and his body went limp.

Jafar exited the room quickly, not bothering to put the boy back in bed.


	6. Breakfast of the Damned

The sky had grown completely black.

As Mozenrath's eyes adjusted to the dark, he was able to make out the faint shapes of walls and pillars inside the citadel. He didn't know exactly which room this was, but it was definitely one of the larger ones.

It was cold. The marble floor was especially cold and chilled his bare feet. He wished that he had put on his cape, turban and shoes earlier. Why hadn't he done that? He hugged his arms close to his body, trying to keep warm.

And then he felt cold fingers grace the undersides of his jaw from someone behind. Making a surprised noise, he whirled around, preparing to lash out in case whomever it was proved hostile. But then he looked up into the person's eyes and any courage left in him instantly sank.

"You're dead."

Disdain grinned eerily down at his former apprentice, reaching out again to stroke his chin with one boney finger.

"No I'm not."

Mozenrath gulped, trying his hardest not to let the older sorcerer know that he was afraid. "What do you want?"

"Me?" Disdain's icy eyes narrowed. "You're the one who woke me up."

The young man bit his lip. "I don't recall ever doing that."

The grin on the old man's thin lips faded into a cold smile. "You got rid of the curse when I had warned you never to fight it." Disdain's cold fingers traced themselves from the boy's chin to the neck. "Remember?"

Mozenrath said nothing.

"You've grown since you and I last met, Mozenrath." Disdain said in a creepy tone. "Quite nicely, I might say." He let two of his skinny fingers glide over his lips, causing Mozenrath to recoil in disgust, wanting no more of this.

"Don't touch me."

The older man chuckled. "Are you afraid of me, Mozenrath?" He shook his head in a mocking fashion. "To think how ill you've treated me after I practically fathered you."

Mozenrath glared at him. "How ill I've treated _you?_ What about the things you made _me_ endure, you creep? I'm not sorry for getting rid of you, so don't bother trying your guilt shit on me."

Disdain leered at him. "And I'm not sorry either." He opened his mouth slightly, revealing his terrible jagged-edged teeth. "For what I'm going to do to you."

* * *

Mozenrath's eyes shot open.

He sat up in his bed and took a few deep breaths. A fresh layer of cold sweat was stirring on his skin. His hair was ruffled and his eyes were surrounded in shadow.

He put a hand to his brow, trying to calm himself down. That nightmare had been way too real. He had experienced nightmares with Disdain in the past, but none like that. This one was over the goddamn rainbow.

_And I'm not sorry either… for what I'm going to do to you._

Mozenrath shook his head. "Bloody dream." And tugged the silk covers back over his head.

* * *

It was rather eventful in the kitchen that morning. One of the mamluks had evidently caught themselves on fire while trying to make breakfast and Xerxes was yelling bloody murder at the others to "get it right or pay with their broken skulls." An annoyed Jafar stood in the middle of all the chaos, having just used his magic to put out what was left of the burning zombie.

"Is this how you spend every allahforsaken moment in this shambling place?" Jafar asked, dusting himself off impatiently.

"No." replied the eel, "Mamluks just really stupid."

The genie took another look at the fried bones. "Indeed."

While Xerxes tried to restore order, Jafar excused himself to the dining room. For a moment he stopped, seeing a cleaned and newly-dressed Mozenrath sitting there in a sort of distracted state. A cruel smirk crossed the genie's lips as he took a seat across from him.

"So," he began in a sarcastic tone, "did the cannabis give you a pleasant rest or did you need another good-night kiss?"

Mozenrath felt himself blush at the memory of his stoned half-assedness. "Shut up."

And then his nose crinkled as it picked up a rather bizarre smell. "Is someone frying linoleum?"

There was some commotion heard from the kitchen.

"One of your zombie friends had a little mishap while cooking breakfast." Jafar replied blatantly.

Mozenrath replied with a simple. "Oh." He wasn't hungry anyway.

Pause.

"Hey… Jafar?"

"Hm?"

"I was wondering if you could help me with something."

Jafar shrugged. "If you can wish for it, boy."

"Stop calling me that."

"What?"

"Boy." Mozenrath's brow furrowed. "I don't appreciate being talked down to."

"Oh?" Jafar raised one eyebrow. "Well, you should be thankful that I refer to you as anything male-related, taking your features into consideration."

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Mozenrath demanded.

"I highly doubt that it hasn't been pointed out to you before." Jafar leaned closer to him and smirked. "You look like a girl."

Mozenrath's eyes shot fully open "I DO NOT!!!"

The way he said it like a whiny kid made Jafar grin. He was beginning to have fun with this, a bit like when they first met two days previous. His eyes narrowed deviously as he decided to prolong the verbal tormenting "You're one tanning session away from being princess Jasmine's overdressed sister."

"WHY YOU…" Mozenrath muttered something under his breath that sounded like "sonofabitch" and glared up at the genie's smug face. "Oh really?" He challenged, "Well, at least I've still GOT my looks!"

Jafar gave out a short laugh. "I believe it was yesterday when you said that I was 'sexy' with 'lovely eyes' and then kissed-"

"I WAS OUT OF MY BLOODY MIND!!" The young man shouted.

"Because you thought that drinking a pint of some unknown substance was a good idea, you idiot." Jafar added.

Mozenrath scoffed. "Stupid, I know. But it's hard to think clearly when you have a wild fire going on in…" He stopped. "Wait… What were we talking about before all this?"

"Oh, yes…" Jafar thought for a moment. "I believe you wanted my help with something?"

"Ah, that's it." Mozenrath said uneasily, realizing just how pointless that entire argument had been.

Jafar straightened himself out. "That was fun." He said, giving Mozenrath an amused smile. "We'll have to do that again sometime."

"I'd rather not." Mozenrath replied.

* * *

_AU: Nothing like a bit of silliness. ; ) Next chapter will be far more serious, I promise._


	7. Diagnosis

Mozenrath led Jafar into the basement where Disdain's old laboratory still was. Most of it was strung with cobwebs and inches of dust after not being touched for years. The things that had once been used in there were now draped in ivory sheets, save for a pile of large brown-covered tomes which the young man must have dug out to read.

Mozenrath picked up one of the books. "Disdain's old journals. He wrote down just about everything he ever did." He set it back down, giving out a long sigh. "I've been trying to find a reason why I went ill after you made the curse go away…. And I've been having these weird dreams."

"Dreams?"

"Where Disdain speaks to me."

"You never mentioned that." Jafar looked at him curiously. "What does he say?"

"Um…" Mozenrath thought for a moment. "He says… that I woke him up. And he's angry at me. Wants revenge."

Curious.

It was then Jafar realized that Mozenrath had yet to explain Disdain's absence. "Is it right to suppose that you did something terrible?"

"I killed him."

Yep, that was indeed quite terrible. A look of alarm shot across Jafar's face. "You… _What??_"

Mozenrath bowed his head a little, his voice suddenly going bitter. "I stole his power and then I stole his humanity- banished it into oblivion." He crossed his arms. "I admit, it wasn't easy. But it was done. Gone. Forever." This was followed by a grin, Mozenrath seeming to take a sadistic pleasure from that particular memory.

It was Jafar's voice that broke it. "But… why?"

"…….Why?" Mozenrath lifted his head slowly, facing the djinn again. "Why? You really want to know that?"

Jafar nodded politely. "Tell me."

Mozenrath sighed again, the look in his eyes suddenly going cold. He took a deep breath and began:

"I suppose you've heard of how dark and evil he was; how he was the most wicked sorcerer in the seven kingdoms. Well, it's true." His eyes narrowed. "I came to him as an abandoned boy when I was five years old. He let me stay with him as an apprentice in return for doing what he asked." He gulped. "When I started studying the power of true sorcerers was when he put that on me. I told you before that he enjoyed seeing me in pain so that he would always have the upper hand. And when I finally got used to being eaten away at, he had to find other ways to hurt me, to feed his sadistic little fantasies."

Jafar could tell by the boy's voice that he was starting to get upset.

"So he started using MAGIC whenever I did something wrong. He would take away my power and tell me to beg for mercy! And when I did something WORSE he would beat the living hell out of me, lock me in the dungeon, violate me in every way possible…"

"Mozenrath-"

"And I wasn't allowed to scream throughout all of that or else he'd just make things worse! He knew he had control of his little pet of an apprentice! He said that I would pay with my own blood if I dared to disobey his rules." He suddenly snatched up one of the journals and gave it a horrifying glare "And he had the grace to write down every single horrible bloody detail of all this! Down to the last drop of SWEAT!" In a blind fury, he hurled the book towards one of the walls where it smashed and tumbled to the floor.

That was when he felt Jafar place a firm grip on his right shoulder and hissed out a "Stop it." The grip tightened. "Stop it now."

The young sorcerer was shivering from the outbursts. He stared at the floor again, not knowing where else to look. His lower lip was trembling and his face was slightly redder. He knew he was acting like a fool, but the possibility of having to deal with his old master again was just unbearable. After taking a few deep breaths, he removed Jafar's hand from his shoulder and turned to him. The eyes of the genie were both sympathetic and warning. He put his right index finger under Mozenrath's chin and gently tilted his head up until their eyes met.

"You're afraid that he'll come back." Jafar whispered.

Mozenrath gave a weak nod. "Yes." He flinched mentally. It wasn't like him to admit things like that. "That's why I need your help." He reached up with his gloved hand to bring Jafar's hand down from his chin. "Jafar." He said, his voice suddenly very serious. "For my second wish, I want you to find out what's wrong with me."

_Second wish_

Jafar's eyes filled with light. Beams of it reached out and into Mozenrath's own eyes. He let out a trembling breath as he felt the magic feeling seep into his body and a few jolts go down his spine. The electric connection between them lasted only for about twenty seconds before it drifted away and Jafar's eyes returned back to normal.

Shaking himself out of the trance, the genie seemed at a loss for words at what he had just seen. It unnerved the boy more than anything.

"Jafar? What did you see?"

"I…" Jafar seemed afraid himself, or perhaps just very shocked. "You said that there was no power left in him before you killed him. That's not true."

Mozenrath blinked. "Huh?"

"Your curse was his magic that rested inside of you. When you wished for the spell to go away, it did. The reason you were in pain was because you had lived with it for so many years that it hurt for it to be taken away so quickly." Jafar looked at Mozenrath closer. "I told you that magic does not die. Once the magic had left you, it returned to its rightful owner, Disdain, waking him from oblivion. He knew right away what had happened and he became furious. Having at least a little power, he gained the ability to come back as a vengeful spirit." His voice went low. "He wants you to pay for everything you did."

Mozenrath was suddenly more afraid than ever before. "No…" He pulled his arms to himself. "No… No… It can't be…" He backed up like a frightened animal until his back hit the wall. He slid down to the floor and buried his face in his arms. "NO!"

Jafar walked over and took a seat beside him, pulling the boy against him as an act of comfort. Mozenrath instinctively nuzzled closer, letting out muffled sobs as he did so.

* * *

After about ten minutes of silence, Mozenrath looked back up at the genie, his face red from crying, but crying no longer.

"He's going to kill me." His voice was shaky and frightened. "He's going to put me through hell and then he'll kill me." He wiped his eyes furiously with his sleeve. He felt like a fool, being down on his knees and crying. "F…fuck…" One side of him felt like beating himself senseless for acting like such a sissy coward. The other side reminded him that this was Disdain they were talking about, not some other monster or person. After being with that sorcerer for so long, you would smirk in contempt at any other threat, which Mozenrath had made a habit of doing.

But not with Disdain. Never with Disdain.

Jafar's hold on the boy tightened, not taking his eyes off the other's. His voice was almost a whisper. "I won't let that happen."

Mozenrath was about to protest when the genie stopped him.

"Listen." Jafar began in a sort of low hiss, "I know what Disdain can do, but the only way that he will destroy you is if you let him." He narrowed his eyes. "Your fear is what gave him control. Your bravery is what took it away. Do you understand?"

"I…" Mozenrath sighed. "I'm not that powerful anymore!"

"Then use your last wish to get your magic back!"

"I can't!"

"Why not?!"

"Because…" He shut his eyes. "Because I don't want you to leave."

Before Jafar could think of how to respond to that, he felt the full lips of the boy press against his own. Mozenrath's grip on the man stiffened, hoping to Allah that Jafar wouldn't pull away. The magic of the genie flooded into his body like nothing he had ever felt before, not even like the previous kiss. A small whine escaped him as he tried to savor the feeling, and he pressed closer against the older sorcerer.

_Must be magic…_

_Strange magic…_

_Strange is good._

_For the moment, I'm not alone._

Eventually, their lips parted. Jafar stared at the other man, dumbfounded and contemplating whether this was real or not. His hands still lay on Mozenrath's back, who didn't seem to mind. Mozenrath's brown eyes reflected a look of both compassion and dead seriousness, waiting in anticipation to see what Jafar would do next.

And then the tension shattered to pieces as an interested smile crept slowly across the genie's lips. "…So I see."


	8. Burned Zombies and Crystal Balls

_Author's note: To those of you who have been wondering, yes, I am aware that Disdain's name is spelled D-E-S-T-A-N-E. I spell his name "Disdain" for symbolic reasons. You all know what the word "disdain" means, right? Okay, note's over._

_-Gozer_

* * *

The young wizard held his breath for a moment, then let it out slowly. He managed to give the genie a weak smile in relief of hearing him say that. 

In all truth, Mozenrath did want his powers back. Desperately. The past two years had honestly been the dreariest years of his life. He hated the fact that he couldn't disappear and reappear anywhere without getting ill, or that making an object float in the air stung like crazy. What was worse, those were the ONLY magical things he was capable of doing. To a commoner, those would be a blessing. Not for the lord of the black sands. He detested the feeling of helplessness. It did nothing but leave him empty. That was what fed his thirst for control. What could he say? He was a brat.

But then again, it had been his loneliness that had made him become more bitter than he had before. He hadn't realized it until he had begun to get along with Jafar. In his whole life, he never really had someone to talk to, apart from a flying familiar that could barely speak. And here was Jafar who, like he, had been a sorcerer once too. They had both gone too far with their powers and paid dearly for it. Jafar's invisible slavery and Mozenrath's ill-treated form- they knew. They both knew what it felt like.

He leaned against Jafar again, feeling the older man's arms wrap back around him in a protective manner. He sighed into his chest. The genie probably hadn't had someone to identify with in a while either. After all, wicked sorcerers weren't exactly what you came across everyday. Mozenrath grinned.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The kitchen was a total disaster. Mamluks were slowly trying to clean the place up while Xerxes looked on with an angry little face. Stupid undead servants, no brawn or brains. It was lucky that the room was still intact, only having ash everywhere what used to be bits of the unfortunate zombie, along with a few pieces of pottery it had knocked over while flailing about.

"Any progress?" Mozenrath asked, walking up next to Xerxes. The eel gave out a small growl. "Mamluks stupid." He looked over at his master. "Where genie at?"

Mozenrath smirked. "Down in the lab. He said that if I let him, he might be able to find something that can keep help us."

"Help us?"

"Jafar told me what was wrong." He glanced at the floor. "It's Disdain. He's back."

Xerxes recoiled in horror at the sound of that name. "Disdain back?!" he shrieked, "Xerxes thought he dead!"

"Evidently, he doesn't know how to do that properly." The wizard mumbled.

Xerxes swam around the room in a panic. "This bad. Very bad. Bad plus bad! Badder!" He looked at his master with a worried look. "Ooooooh, Disdain gonna be mad at Mozenrath."

Mozenrath glared at him. "Yeah, thanks."

"He be very very mad!" The eel continued, "Disdain get temper bad! Disdain so mad one time that he took whip and-"

"Hold your tongue!" Mozenrath shouted, grabbing the creature by the throat. His eyes narrowed into slits and his voice went low. "I know what he did. I don't need you to remind me, understand?"

"Xerxes sorry." The eel choked out.

* * *

Merciful Allah. 

The wizard had been understating the facts when he told the genie how Disdain wrote down just about everything in the past thirty years of journal-keeping. He wrote down _absolutely_ everything! There were about 21 leather-bound books and none of them had any specific dates recorded within. If Jafar needed something to do for the next decade, finding one little entry about a bloody curse was the thing to do.

Of course, Jafar had an easier alternative in mind. He held his hand out and produced from it a crystal orb. If he truly wanted answers from the past, he had the choice of seeing it for himself. Or in the present. He had never learned how to tell the future. (How irritating!)

That, of which, depended on where he was. When he lived in Agrabah, he had the power to see whatever was going on in the streets or palace. Back then, it was difficult. Now that he was a genie, it no longer was.

He held the crystal with both hands and concentrated on it intently, his eyes turning white with magic.

"Show me Mozenrath's history."

It only lasted a minute, but the events inside the crystal seemed to make time go in slow motion.

* * *

_A young boy- five years old… abandoned… ran away… found a city with nobody inhabiting it… captured by mamluks… taken to a pale man with long gray hair and dressed in gray and brown… they call him Disdain… takes him in… puts the boy to work… he cleans the place up for a while… eventually becomes Disdain's apprentice…_

_Ten years old… given an enchanted gauntlet… he can do magic now…loves the sensation of it… practices… slips up- throws Disdain into a wall… not his fault, it was an accident… gets beat up anyway… Disdain realizes that this boy can go against him… puts curse on the boy for control… he's all his now… takes advantage of it… makes him his personal slave… developing beautifully… sexual favors… do this-do that… suffer the consequences… I'm your master now you little weakling… the curse begins taking a toll… skin on the right fingertips falls off… panic… soon come the fingers themselves… feeling helpless… magic becomes more painful to use… no escape… no mercy…_

_Thirteen years old… accompanies his master on an outing… Disdain gives him a strange flying eel as a reward for being such a good boy… boy calls it Xerxes… they become fast friends… gives a bit of self-esteem back to Mozenrath… he is more than he realizes… practices magic more… takes the pain… his entire right hand and wrist are skinless… thank Allah- he can still move them… sneaks into his master's private library and takes notes on spells… learns all he can… Distain never knows…_

_Fifteen years old… can't take the abuse anymore… enough is enough… payback time… stakes are against him… takes the chance anyway… catches Disdain off guard… a fight ensues… blood is shed… the man falls… his essence is drained… all that remains is a shriveled zombie… Mozenrath wins… dances into the night… freedom… freedom at last… Disdain's power surges through him… he wants more… feels so wicked… loves it…_

_A year later… learns about thurdaks… it survives on magic… he wants to use it as a weapon… brings it into his world… needs someone to put control over it… many try… all fail… except another man… Aladdin… but the plan backfires… thanks a lot… tries many more times to get back at the young man… exciting times… strange spells… magical monstrosities… even a try at getting rid of the curse… Aladdin always wins… the cheeky little bastard…_

_Magic begins taking a greater toll on his body… making him sick… no skin up to his elbow… gets violently ill… Xerxes becomes scared… that infernal curse… tries everything to get rid of it… no such luck… what now… die or give up magic… die or give up magic… he chooses to live… powerless now… there's got to be another way to get magic naturally without the glove… searches for anything that can bring it back… charms… potions… prayers… nothing works… two years pass fruitlessly… then he finds a lamp… a magic lamp… genie eradicates the curse… the power of the curse awakens Disdain from oblivion… thggvbjkjjlk… fgfjhjh… Jafar… uytfhbcfssdgf_

* * *

The crystal went foggy. 

Jafar stared at it. His mouth was partially open from awe. Merciful Allah… Disdain was truly sick. No, that was putting it lightly- the man was absolutely revolting. Nobody deserved what the boy had gone through. The things he had done to Mozenrath… and now he was coming back for him. Back for his little slave. This was worse than he thought.

Well, whatever fate had in stock, Disdain was going to get a taste of what happened when you messed with Jafar.

He smirked.

Or Jafar's _master._


	9. Dreamcatcher

_Author's note: I decided to give Jafar hair because... his genie form has hair. Sorry for not updating sooner. Enjoy!

* * *

_

* * *

A small, broken temple at the edge of the city ruins. Nothing more than another building that once was, or maybe never was.

One old mamluk hobbled over to it. It was an excruciating walk from the citadel to the edge of town, for someone whose legs have been slowly deteriorating for years. The undead normally wouldn't mind that sort of thing, being nothing more than a walking corpse. But this one was… different.

It made its way clumsily into the temple, at last collapsing to its rotting knees in the middle of the dark room.

"M… Master?" The thing mumbled.

On the far wall, next to the shambling altar, a faded sort of shadow slowly crawled up into a dim silhouette. The shadow became slightly darker, and two dead-looking yellow eyes peered out from its abyss. "Hello, Sahib." It said in a dark, cold voice.

The dead man did his best to smile, having very little of lips left on his shriveled face. "My good master, I have returned."

"Tell me the information you have gathered." The shadow whispered.

"Yes, Sir." He paused, coughed out a cloud of black dust, and continued. "The… The visitor in the citadel… He was the one who lifted the curse on Mozenrath."

The shadow gave out a low, creepy hiss. "How did he do it then?"

Sahib gulped. (Which sounded more like a choke, actually.) "The visitor, as I have discovered, is a Djinn. Genie sir. Mozenrath's…. first wish from him was to eradicate… the curse."

"A genie?!" The shadow made an angrier noise and took a physical step from the wall towards the zombie, who took a step back, utterly terrified. "Where did he find a genie?!"

"I don't know!" Sahib shrieked, grasping the top of his turban-clad head with boney hands. "I swear I don't! Have mercy on my soul, please!"

The shadow scoffed. "Your what? Your soul??" The ghost let out a low, cruel laugh at the poor man. "Listen you falling-apart pile of flesh, it's because of me that you can even think or speak. Do I make myself clear?!" The eyes narrowed. "DO I?!"

"Yes my master! I'm sorry! Forgive me, master!"

The eyes rolled. "Pathetic." The spectre moved closer to the man and softened its voice. "Listen to me, I can bring the wretched child down, but I need your help to analyze him when he's not asleep." For the first time, the shadow grinned a row of gray, jagged teeth. "Help me through this and I promise- I will return the rest of your life essence back to you, along with all the gold you can carry for your new life."

Sahib nodded. "Yes, thank you, Master. I will try my very hardest."

"In the meantime," the spectre continued, "I'll stay here until I have enough strength to physically confront him myself. After that you may do what you wish. But until that time…" The dead eyes narrowed, "You must behave like the other mamluks. You are not to speak or act suspiciously. Is that understood?"

"It is, Master." Sahib said, giving a crooked smile.

The shadowed figure of Disdain grinned again and vanished into thin air.

* * *

The next morning came in on dull clouds.

Mozenrath's eyes crept open slowly, for one of the first times in the past few days feeling refreshed from sleep. No nightmares. No waking up in fear. Just sleep. Sweet, uninterrupted sleep.

Something was up.

Mozenrath's eyes wandered over to Jafar's lamp, still sitting on the desk at the corner of the room. His brows furrowed. What exactly had Jafar done in the lab yesterday?

Giving a yawn, he tugged the covers off his pale body and got up. He shivered. It was always a little chilly in the mornings, besides being clad in only pajama pants. Walking cautiously over to the lamp, he wondered if Jafar may have been out and about already. He touched it. No, the genie was still in there.

Picking it up, the magic touch nipping gently at his fingers, he gave it a few quick rubs with the palm of his good hand. A blast of red smoke instantly engulfed the room, collecting and swirling around Jafar's tall figure, until it faded away.

Jafar smirked down at the young wizard once he was fully in view. "Pleasant dreams?"

Mozenrath gave a slight smile. He knew he'd say that. "Yes, Actually. What did you do?"

"What did I do?" Jafar raised his eyebrows in a typical know-it-all fashion. "It's an old magic technique known as 'dreamcatching'- used for blocking nightmares in your mind when you sleep, my boy." He grinned. "But since Disdain isn't just a simple bad dream, I threw in a bit of…" He snapped his fingers, making a sort of small flame ignite from them, lasting only for a second. "…reinforcement."

Mozenrath's eyes widened. "Fire?"

"In a sense. Dream spells and protective spells seem to have a nice mix. If he so much as touches you while you sleep, it will be like touching iron after it's been sitting on coals for a few hours."

The mental image of Disdain doing such a thing and screaming in pain like a little girl made the young sorcerer give off a laugh. "Oh good gods, Jafar!!" Relief, and a good bit of sadistic delight suddenly filled the young man. Completely and rightfully overjoyed, he hugged Jafar close, who contently hugged him back, a smile crossing his lips with satisfaction of his own. "You're very welcome."

Mozenrath grinned against Jafar's chest, feeling the little sadist in him begin to prod his side. His voice suddenly became very low and wicked. "I hope he roasts his little fingers. I hope they burn away slowly."

Jafar couldn't help but grin at that. Even if Disdain deserved it, that statement was just _evil._ Now he was truly seeing the young sorcerer's darker side. He liked it. He liked it a _lot._

"Just the fingers?" He asked, hoping to see more of it.

Mozenrath bit his lip with pleasure at the horrible images in his head. "The fingers first. Slowly. And then even slower across the knuckles- every joint in fact."

"The palm and wrists next?"

"With every vein burning." Mozenrath's grip on Jafar tightened. It occurred to the genie that he was probably describing what it had felt like to lose the skin on his right arm, which currently held a firm grip on his cape. Carefully, he loosened the grip on that hand and brought it up to his lips.

Mozenrath gave off a low whine at the sensation that ran through that hand. Being stripped of skin, it was especially sensitive to any kind of touch. Taking note of that noise, Jafar kissed it again, smiling as the wizard shuddered against him.

"Jafar…"

"Make me stop then." The genie hissed, his voice was low and husky, watching the boy closely through those intensely hypnotic eyes. When he could bear it no longer, Mozenrath pulled the man closer to himself, craning his neck forward until his full lips met his. And suddenly the chilliness of the morning air was long gone.

Mozenrath gave a short intake of breath at the contact, the sensations from the mystical ex-sorcerer once again working their unintentional magic. Eventually however, he allowed himself to relax. Jafar gave off another hiss against the boy's mouth, stroking his long fingers across the nape of his neck. It had been quite a while since the genie had done anything like this, especially with someone as wicked as himself. Or as lovely as any courtesan. (but he wasn't about to say that out loud.) Giving yet another hiss, he presses his tongue up against Mozanrath's teeth, urging them apart, which he thankfully had little trouble in accomplishing.

A small moan escaped Mozenrath at the feel of the older man's warm tongue against his, making his grip on the back of Jafar's head tighten. Trying to find his own dominance in all this, he slithered his own lithe tongue along the man's somewhat-sharp teeth and brought his skeletal hand down to grip at the genie's chest.

Jafar's hands began to slowly roam down the boy's back, his brows furrowing in frustration as his fingers ran across several long indents in the pale skin. Scars. The work of Disdain. But he wouldn't think about that. Not now. The young wicked creature presently in his arms was _his._ His master.

With a hard tug, the pale wizard removed the other's turban, letting it fall to the floor. Jafar didn't have much hair, save for the back of his head where a bit of it was tied up. (_What is it with genies and ponytails?_ He wondered) The genie didn't seem to mind this, though he did cock an eyebrow when it happened. Carefully, he lowered his head and kissed the boy in the indent on his collarbone, giving it a quick lick as well. Mozenrath bit his lip, trying not to give out any whines while this went on. Of course, he ended up letting out a rough exhale as Jafar moved his head lower for a few kisses on his bare chest.

After lingering there for a little while, he brought his head back up to the lips, planting a chaste kiss upon them and pulling back to look at his pale dove. Mozenrath's eyes had gone quite smokey, bewildered by the way this magic had worked its wonders and succeeded many times over.

Jafar gave a satisfied smile and brushed a few strands of loose hair away from the boy's face. "I believe that's enough for now."

He picked up his discarded turban on the floor, dusted it off and fixed it back into place on his head. Mozenrath let out another sigh, unsure of whether it was from disappointment for stopping or from excess excitement that had built up inside him.

* * *

Outside the doorway to Mozenrath's room, Sahib finally pulled his shriveled head away from the door. Wow. This was certainly… a strange turn of events. He had originally gone up there just to make sure the boy had gotten up, but what he had found was far more interesting. He rolled his dead eyes. "Disdain… is not going to like this…"


	10. Apprehension

The rest of the day went by rather quietly. Mozenrath spent the better part of it in the library of the citadel, seeing if there was anything useful in the ways of magic or getting rid of pesky unwanted ghosts. Stupid, annoying, pesky unwanted ghosts.

Xerxes had tagged along with him, of course, eager to help his master in any way possible. He couldn't read very well, but there was no use for not trying. It began in a typical fashion of searching for spells to try out. Time passed by. More time passed by. Even more time passed by, and it began to get on Xerxes' nerves.

"Why Mozenrath here so long?" The creature asked, peeking his head up from a pile of books nearby.

Mozenrath was currently seated at an old table, surrounded by more books. His mind had been buzzing all day with the events of that morning. It made it especially hard to concentrate on the more important things at hand. "Studying. Getting rid of Disdain stuff." He said without looking up. The fact that the books were completely and utterly boring didn't seem to help at all with the focus issue.

"For six hours?"

"I'd appreciate it if you would shut up and let me read, Xerxes."

Xerxes blinked. He was used to Mozenrath's stubborn attitude, but the man would have normally gotten bored or tried one of the techniques he had learned by now. I mean, sure, this was Disdain they were dealing with. But still…

"If you hiding from Disdain," He suggested, "try the city. He never find-"

Mozenrath finally lifted his head, clearly annoyed by his companion. "I'm not hiding, you flying infadel!"

Well, it was clear that _something_ was bothering him. Other than the eel, of course. "Mozenrath have bad dream again?"

If he didn't give an answer, his twitty little friend would be bothering him for the rest of the day. The wizard rolled his eyes in defeat. "No, Jafar…" He paused for a moment, then resumed, "Jafar put a weird protection spell thing over me to block them."

"Oh." Xerxes smiled at that thought. "Genie very nice to you."

"Indeed…" Mozenrath muttered, biting his lower lip.

Xerxes didn't notice. "Why do Genie like Mozenrath so much?"

The wizard sighed. Fucking curious eel… "Well," he began carefully, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. He bit his lip again. "I really don't know. Go ask hi-" pause.

"Go ask wha?" Xerxes asked, confused by the abrupt halt.

It suddenly dawned on Mozenrath that he hadn't seen the genie once in the past six hours. Despite the events of that morning, he knew that Jafar would've eventually gone to see what was going on, like usual. Being lost wasn't an excuse- genies could locate their master anywhere without batting an eye. What was going on?

He got up "Why don't we go find him and ask, okay?" In all honesty, he wasn't even interested in the question. He just wanted to see what Jafar was up to.

Xerxes nodded in agreement.

In a blurst of blue, the two of them reappeared in Mozenrath's room.

And something _was_ wrong. Something was definitely wrong.

"Xerxes," Mozenrath said slowly, but incredibly nervous, "Where's the-"

* * *

The red smoke cleared. It took Jafar a moment for his eyes to adjust, but he was eventually able to examine the surroundings. It took him another moment to realize that he wasn't in the citadel anymore.

He was standing in an old building. It was spacious, but still quite small. The floor was dirt. He must be in the city area, unless maybe this was a dungeon or something.

To his right, a shoddy-looking mamluk stood, grinning at him with a mouth full of mostly-broken teeth. Creepy, but nothing new.

But where was Mozen-

"Never thought I'd be seeing you again."

He whirled around. He had been half-expecting to see this, though it still made him gape in unpleasant surprise.

There stood the dark ghostly form of the long-dead ex-lord of the black sands, yellow eyes piercing the darkness, long boney fingers trailing along at the figure's sides. His hair was ragged and most of his beard had fallen off, revealing clay cold dark lips. He was dressed completely in black, adding to the ominous atmosphere. In short, he looked completely dead. But Jafar was still quick to recognize who this was.

"Disdain." He hissed, eyes narrowing.

The ghost grinned a row of terrible jagged teeth. "I should've known this is what would happen to you." He moved closer to the genie. "Find the cave of wonders, did you? And the magic lamp?" His grin widened. "Did all your wishes come true?"

Jafar could feel the anger seething inside him. The pupils of his eyes began to shift into cobra slits upon that reaction. But he knew what Disdain was like, what he wanted, and forced his temper back down. He wouldn't give him the honor of pissing him off just yet. "It's a shame you weren't there to celebrate with my victory." He replied in a calm, but dangerous tone. "I quite enjoyed it while it lasted."

Disdain gave a low chuckle. "I knew that the power would go straight to your head. You underestimate too many things, Jafar. I'm not at all surprised this happened to you."

"Really now." Jafar raised an unphased eyebrow. "I suppose you and I have something in common then."

The grin faded from the dead man's face. "Pardon?"

Jafar gave an unamused smile. "I underestimated what the powers of a djinn would hold over me, and now I'm a slave to it." He twirled one finger in the air, lowering his voice." "You underestimated the powers of the one thing you thought you had control of" His smile vanished. "and it KILLED YOU!"

That was enough to send the ghost into a rage. In one motion, he threw a good-sized ball of fire at the genie, sending him flying into the far wall with a loud 'thwak'. It hurt. But only for a moment. Physical power meant nothing when it came to the world of genies, even if it did leave a nasty indent in the wall. Jafar got carefully back up, glaring profusely at the other man who shared the same expression.

"Don't you _dare_ speak that way to me again, filthy servant!" Disdain yelled, his dead yellow eyes glowing with anger.

Jafar took a few threatening steps towards him. "Ohhh… But it's the truth." He moved closer, his serpentine eyes fixed upon the spectre. "Or are you afraid to admit that for once, someone overcame even your 'invincible' power?"

"That power you speak of" Disdain said, holding out his hand. "has come back." In a swirl of black sparks, a brown sack appeared in his hand. What he removed from it made Jafar's eyes go wide in horror, causing Sahib to burst into a dead sort of laughter. Disdain grinned. "I believe three wishes are in order, my humble genie." He said, clutching the black lamp.


	11. Lights

Back in the citadel, things were just as unpleasent.

"It was in here this morning!" Mozenrath yelled, pacing frantically around his room, "Where could it have gone?!"

"Mozenrath sure lamp was here last?"

"Trust me on that, Xerxes."

Xerxes thought for a moment. "Mamluks take it?"

The wizard shook his head. "Don't be dense, they know not to come in here. Besides, they wouldn't know what to do with a lamp if they were given instructions."

"Oh." Xerxes tried to think of something better. "Maybe they see who take lamp then?"

Mozenrath blinked. "There's an idea."

Quickly, he raced down to the main hall where about four mamluks were keeping guard as usual. They were expressionless as usual, but came to attention when their master stood before them.

"Listen." Mozenrath said in a stern tone, "Have any of you seen any suspicious people… or, things lurking around here?"

The mamluks looked at each other for a moment, and then shook their heads.

The wizard swore.

"…With a lamp!" Xerxes added, appearing at Mozenrath's shoulder, before being batted away.

It took a moment, but one of the ghouls finally gave a low confirming groan. The young sorcerer raised an eyebrow. Someone unsuspecting stole the lamp? It made him even more irritated than before, but he managed to stay focused. "Which way did they go?!" He demanded.

The mamluk raised a stale hand and pointed out a nearby window towards the deserted city.

The wizard gave a curt nod and turned quickly to Xerxes, not having another moment to waste. "Listen closely," He began, "I need you to gather up as many mamluks as you can find. Tell half of them to search the city and keep the other half with you." He looked out the window. "Disdain's behind this. I know it."

"What Mozenrath do?" Xerxes asked.

Mozenrath bit his lip, a mixture of fear and determination stirring inside him. "If someone stole the lamp for him, he's got to be in the city somewhere. I'm going to go find him."

The eel's eyes shot wide open. Before Mozenrath could get to the front doors, he was already trying to tug him backwards by his cape. "No!"

The wizard's irritation level grew a bit higher. "What do you mean no?!"

"He kill you!" Xexes yelled in his scratchy high-pitched voice, "Xerxes remembers what Disdain be like! He want revenge! Mozenrath stay!"

Normally, Mozenrath would've simply smacked the blubbering away. Instead, he just sighed. "Xerxes… he won't kill me."

"Yes he will!"

"No he won't." He kept his voice calm, trying not to make the creature freak out even more. "Look… I knew Disdain as well as anyone. If he finds me, he won't kill me. I'm his… apprentice. If he wanted to kill me, he wouldn't do it right away."

"But-"

"Xerxes." He lowered his voice. "If you need to find me out there, just follow the lights to the brightest."

He was referring, of course, to the strange-looking lights all over the town that glowed when something magic was near. Used to keep out intruders. People like Aladdin had sometimes tried to sneak over there in the past, which evidently failed due to his magical little friends who were always following him.

"But find the lamp first. That's an order."

"…Okay." Xerxes managed to say, before obediently flying off.

* * *

For obvious reasons, the sorcerer brought two mamluks along with him. Only an idiot would go searching for something as dangerous as Disdain alone. The zombie soldiers were strong, But Mozenrath knew that they'd probably be useful only as a distraction. Things like mamluks didn't last long in the face of pure black magic. Hell, they didn't last long if anything in heavy blasts hit them. But hey, better safe than sorry.

They were currently on a trail, down a street where the magic-sensing crystals kept getting brighter and brighter. He sighed. If the dead ex-sorcerer really didn't want to be found, he would've destroyed the lights. No doubt he was expecting his little apprentice to come looking for him. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Magic or not, he wasn't going to spend the rest of his life hiding from some dead old man.

They crept closer. Mozenrath pulled out the sword he had brought, preparing himself for any attack. "Stay close." He whispered to his guards.

No response.

Mozenrath curiously looked back. Only a few yards away from him lay the bodies of his mamluks, their heads sliced clean off without so much as a gasp.

But before he had time to even be alarmed by the situation, he felt something hard strike him on the back of the head, turning absolutely everything black. He collapsed to the sand ground, unconscious.

Sahib smirked, tossing part of a now-broken glass bottle away.

* * *

When the wizard finally came to, he found himself in the middle of a floor in a large dark room. It looked like some kind of temple. Probably a ruin in the city. The first inconvenience he noticed was that his hands were bound behind his back.

Bad sign.

Nevertheless, Mozenrath tried slowly to get up, but cried out as pain shot through his legs, crumpling to the floor again.

He looked down at them. They were broken in at least three places each.

"Oh, you're finally awake."

Mozenrath looked up. There stood the ghostly figure of Disdain, smiling coldly down at his crippled prisoner. The live sorcerer shot him a death glare from his spot on the floor, baring his teeth in sheer loathing. "You."

"Me." Disdain responded, stomping his foot on one of Mozenrath's broken legs, relishing in the pained shriek that his apprentice gave off. The ghost smiled. "Mmm, I've really missed hearing that." He pressed down harder. Mozenrath gritted his teeth, an inadvertant tear sliding down one cheek, trying his hardest not to make any of those stupid painful noises that his 'master' enjoyed so.

Disdain frowned. "Brat." He gave another hard stomp to the leg, smiling upon hearing a response from the younger man this time. Finally, he took his foot off and crouched down beside him, removing his turban and combing cold fingers through his raven hair. "We haven't gotten the proper chance to talk have we?" He asked.

"Take…" Mozenrath hissed, "…Your filthy hands off me."

The response he got was fingernails digging into his scalp. Mozenrath snarled and tried to break away from his grip. It only grew tighter, making a thin line of blood run down the side of his face. Disdain grinned. "You've grown a bit of an attitude, Mozenrath, But just as stubborn as I recall. Lets see how long it takes before it caves in."

Mozenrath's eyes narrowed. "I'm not afraid of you, Disdain."

"You say that like you mean it."

"I do."

The dead man released his grip on the bloodied scalp, bringing two of his long skinny fingers to his lips. "I could always tell when your blood ran cold." He purred, lewdly licking the blood off his fingertips. "But enough trivial banter. This is where we begin to have a little fun."

Mozenrath's upper lip twitched a little at the vulgar thought, but managed to hold back the rest of his agitation. "I'm used to it." He replied, coldly.

* * *

Find the lamp first. Find the lamp first.

Xerxes was becoming more and more irritated as to where the stupid lamp was in that allahforsaken city. Whenever they came across one of the glowing magic-sensing crystals, the magic source ended up being a few mamluks that were usually found patrolling the city. The task of finding the black lamp seemed to be getting more and more impossible.

But what was worrying him more than anything at the moment was whatever was happening to Mozenrath. Xerxes shuddered. He wasn't lying at all when he had said he remembered what Disdain did. He knew that if anyone had the potential to completely break the young man, it was him, never mind that Mozenrath had killed him before- that was when he had actual magic. What did he have now? A bunch of living-dead soldiers and a flying talking eel.

…And one wish.

Rounding another corner to what used to be the central marketplace, another place where the lights were glowing, they found a stray mamluk that wasn't with a group. It wasn't walking or keeping watch, which was what the others continuously did. Instead, it seemed to be waiting or something.

Hearing footsteps approaching behind him, Sahib smiled, tired of the anticipation. "So master," He said casually, "did you get-"

"GUH?!" Xerxes shrieked in surprise.

The zombie stopped, turning around and realizing exactly who was there.

The eel stared back at him, jaw askew in a mixture of shock and puzzlement. The other mamluks examined the stranger with eerie curiosity. Mamluks couldn't talk. They didn't even have too much of a free will. But here was one who could talk and apparently think.

"Uh…" Sahib fumbled, unsure of what to do in this sort of situation, "Hi?"

Xerxes finally came to his senses and glared at the mamluk. "Who your master?!" He demanded.

"Master? Eh…." The zombie said, trying to play dumb unconvincingly. "What's a master?"

The eel let out a snarl. Now he knew why the mamluks from the citadel hadn't reported any suspicious people. Now he knew how someone had gotten in. "You…" His beady little eyes gleamed. "You with Disdain!"

Out of excuses, Sahib unsheathed his sword from his belt. "Say another word and I'll turn you into a sushi bar!" He yelled in a crackly voice.

Bad idea.

In an instant, the 20+ mamluks that had been following Xerxes surrounded the two, their 20+ swords aimed at the talking ghoul's throat. Loyalty was key, and right now, it didn't pay to be a traitor.

Xerxes smirked.

"Eheh…" Sahib let his sword fall to the ground and raising his hands in surrender. "Just… kidding?"


	12. Third Wish

Two of the mamluks held tight to Sahib while the others surrounded him with their swords, one swipe away from removing his head from his brittle shoulders.

"Now," Xerxes demanded, leering closely at the ghoul, "You talk. You tell truth. But lie to Xerxes and die."

Sahib sighed. (Which sounded more like a wheeze.) "If I do, promise me that you won't tell Disdain."

"Xerxes promise you not get throat ripped out if you talk."

"Fair enough." The ghoul muttered. He wondered how ridiculous this must've looked- getting death threats barked at you from a fish with a speech impediment.

The eel gave out a small 'hmph' and hovered closer, not taking his little eyes of the zombie. Eager to get on with this to see if Mozenrath was safe, he began; "Where lamp at, mamluk?"

Another wheezy sigh. "Here." Sahib replied in a cautious tone, reaching into his robe, pulling out the black lamp and setting it gently on the ground. "Disdain gave it to me so that Mozenrath wouldn't have a chance to take it back from him."

Clever idea. But not clever enough. Xerxes tilted his head to one side. "Disdain wish?"

Sahib raised an eyebrow. "You mean did he wish for anything?" he reiterated, doing his best to understand the eel's broken sense of grammar. "Yes, he made two wishes. The first one…" He thought for a moment. "The first one was to get his powers back. The second was to take Mozenrath's away. He didn't make a third yet."

"But Mozenrath already…" Xerxes stopped. He remembered that Mozenrath still had the ability to teleport and make things float in the air. Both were weak, but still useful. Evidently, Mozenrath couldn't even do those things anymore. It made him even more nervous, especially picturing him with a fully-capable Disdain.

Carefully, Xerxes swam down to the lamp, rubbing his front fins against it, as he had observed Mozenrath doing before.

As usual the lamp made a few jerks and a cloud of smoke exploded from its nozzle, bringing forth the figure of Jafar.

Jafar blinked, surveying the setting he was in this time.

"Genie!"

He looked down at Xerxes, who was holding the lamp. There were a few mamluks around too, but Mozenrath was absolutely nowhere.

"What's going on?" He demeanded.

Xerxes spoke in an anxious tone. "Talking traitor steal lamp for Disdain! Mozenrath tell Xerxes to look for lamp while he go after him!"

"Mozenrath went after Disdain ….alone?"

"He insist!"

Jafar shut his eyes in frustration. "It's a miracle that boy doesn't kneel over dead every morning."

"Well…" Xerxes lifted the lamp into the air, having a bit of difficulty as it was a bit heavy to him. "Xerxes wish that genie bring us to wherever Disdain be!"

Nothing like being commanded by a flying eel to lift your self-esteem.

"As you wish." Jafar said.

* * *

Mozenrath wasn't moving. He laid face-down on the floor with blood leaking out from fresh wounds. A few burn marks were left on his body as well, parts of his clothes having been seared off by what had probably been a blast of fire. His hands were no longer tied, but it hardly mattered right now. 

Disdain sneered at him. "You'd better wake up soon." He removed a dagger from his robe. "I want to hear you scream my name when I put this through your-"

"GET HIM!!!"

"Whatthefu-"

Disdain whirled around just in time to see about twenty mamluks charging in his direction. With a low snarl he disappeared and reappeared to another area in the room. Giving a wave of his hand, a blast of black magic took out half the soldiers.

Xerxes held onto the lamp by the handle, keeping his composure in the air. "Uh… Um…. Xerxes wish for three hundred mamluks!"

And that's when the place became a total zombie free-for-all. Disdain let out a shout of both anger and utter confusion as he fought off the ghouls, sending sparks and body parts flying through the air. Xerxes and Jafar quickly made their way over to Mozenrath's body. Disdain hadn't spotted them yet, amongst the chaos, but he would, soon enough.

"Mozenrath?" Xerxes whispered.

No response. No movement.

"Hey, Mozenrath!" He said again, giving him a few light slaps on the shoulder with his fins. Still nothing. Xerxes started to panic.

Jafar knelt down beside the boy, watching him carefully. His body had sustained countless injuries, but he was still alive. The sound of shallow breathing could be heard from his mouth. Knowing how his touch affected him, Jafar gave a sharp pinch to a burn on his left shoulder blade.

The effect was instantaneous as Mozenrath's tired eyes shot open. "Nghh!"

Xerxes gave off a small squeal upon seeing that his master was alright and cuddled up to him.

"Getoffame…" Mozenrath grumbled, trying to shoo him away but winced at the pain when he tried to move. He rolled his tired eyes, which fell onto the black lamp in front of him as they came back into focus.

"Xerxes get lamp like you say."

The wizard smirked and touched it with the fingers of his good hand, which was slightly difficult taking into consideration the large bruise on his shoulder. "I see that…" his eyes wandered over to the genie who was watching him closely.

Disdain, ignored at the moment, brushed off the remains of gore on his person and vanished

Mozenrath closed his eyes and let a cruel smile crawl across his lips. "Heh… I wish…" the words of his last request to the genie were whispered. Then suddenly, his eyes shot wide open as the vengeful ghost stood in front of him.

Xerxes snarled and attempted to bite at the figure, but was met with a blast of black magic, hurtling his slippery little body across the room.

Disdain crouched down, knowing fully well that the genie proved no danger after three wishes, and grasped the scruff of the broken man's neck. "Nice little show there, but pathetic attempt to get away from me, Mozenrath." Instead of hurting him more, as what was expected, the dead man simply gave him a cold smile and leered sharply into his eyes. "You don't want me to leave, do you?"

Mozenrath sneered in disgust.

"You could've used your last wish to send me away permenantly." The grip tightened. "Instead, you wasted it on something else- look at you. You didn't even fix your own crippled corpse you little- Argh!"

Mozenrath blinked.

"He didn't waste it." Jafar hissed, digging his fingernails into the flesh of Disdain's throat from behind. Giving a low growl, the dead man pulled himself free, making the lamp reappear in his hand. "You!"

"Me?" Jafar asked innocently.

Disdain seethed. "Back in the lamp. Now."

Mozenrath, still on the floor, grinned wickedly at that.

"I don't think so."

A smile crept across Jafar's lips.

Xerxes, having recovered a little from the blast, appeared at the Genie's shoulder with a look of astonishment. "Genie… free?"

Disdain blinked.

"Yes, Xerxes, I am."

In that instant, the ghost of disappeared in a burst of black magic.

"Coward!" Xerxes yelled.

"He's not stupid." Mozenrath muttered. "He knows he doesn't stand a chance with a genie in the shape he's in now."

He was met with a scowl from Jafar. "The way you went after him with a sword and two mamluks, you little idiot?"

"I learn from the best." He replied curtly.

The genie smiled. "So I've noticed. Hold still."

"Hm?"

He snapped his fingers, letting off a burst of white light which seemed to swirl around Mozenrath's form. The broken bones knit back into place and the wounds disappeared. It took a moment, but the wizard finally found the strength to sit up. Jafar reached out a helping hand to him, who took it without argument.

"He'll be back." Mozenrath whispered, "He needs time to prepare but he'll be back."

Jafar shrugged. "Let's just worry about getting back to the citadel first."


End file.
